


Compendious

by itachiscatears



Series: Naruto AU Week 2021 [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Co-kages Hashirama and Madara, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itachiscatears/pseuds/itachiscatears
Summary: Madara and Hashirama met at the river as boys and discussed a world where children would not have to fight in adults' wars. As adults, they make this a reality.Or:A day in the life of the Hokages.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama/Uzumaki Mito
Series: Naruto AU Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151513
Comments: 4
Kudos: 58
Collections: Naruto AU Week 2021





	Compendious

**Author's Note:**

> Here thee be many unexplained headcanons. When I said slice of life I meant it :') 
> 
> Concrit is fine, though, so feel free to let me know if something makes no sense/the scenes are too janky/etc. and I'll review it. I know some of the transitions need editing and I’m really sorry if there are any mistakes, but the deadline was kicking my ass and I have other fics to focus on for this event. This fic will be reviewed properly (and probably extended to improve the pacing) when the event ends. 
> 
> The Uchiha brothers' names are based on the [Mount Iizuna theory](https://fineillsignup.tumblr.com/post/182665874053/theory-about-madara-and-izunas-names) but with my own liberties due to being a forgetful dumbass. Birth order: Togakushi (35), Madara (34), Izuna (31), Kuromaru (29), Nagano (24). 
> 
> Side note: Izuna's the head of the KMPF (which serves + regulates civilians and shinobi in Konoha) and Kuromaru handles the civilian side of things, but it is an integrated organisation that is overseen by a public council and not left up to the Uchiha. 
> 
> Written for: 
> 
> Naruto AU Week - Day 1: _Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies_ | Apocalypse

**06:00**

Madara wakes to the quiet click of the outside door sliding open. The room brightens significantly with the morning sun, forcing him to shield his face with a sleep-numb arm. The smell of dewy grass and the assortment of flowers beyond the engawa replaces recycled air and the faint scent of night sweat.

Hashirama sits by his shoulders and begins untangling his hair with patient fingers. "It's six," he says needlessly, voice soft and pleasant. It feels like only minutes since he had risen to pray and meditate, the shifting of the futon having woken Madara as it does every morning. "Do you want to train together?"

Madara grumbles non-commitally, thoroughly unenthusiastic about anything that is not going back to sleep. His eyes are sticky and filmy when he finally pries them open, the deterioration more evident every day. He shuts them and focuses on the fingers combing through his hair.

"Madara? Are you feeling well?"

He grunts and rolls onto his back, pushing the increasingly humid covers away. He can feel eyes on his skin: his kimono had come undone during the night, the knot loosened by Hashirama's teasing fingers. The morning breeze prickles the hair on his stomach and thighs.

"Would you like a hand?" Hashirama offers magnanimously.

He considers this without urgency, still mostly asleep. He has to train, bathe and get to the Uchiha district by eight if he wants to eat with his brothers. Training with Hashirama always takes longer, but it is infinitely more satisfying than training on his own.

"If you're quick," he agrees just as generously.

The first touch is pleasant, if not slightly dull, but Hashirama takes him at his word and does not attempt to moderate himself: he touches Madara as he himself likes to be touched most days, fingers dry and agile. Madara heats rapidly under deft fingers, hands fisting the mattress under him as Hashirama's deceptively loving touch transitions into something _ruthless_. He hisses between his teeth, straining to keep his hips still.

He thrusts a hand out, blindly seeking—and Hashirama takes it in his, somehow interpreting the sense of light-headedness that has overcome him. He might have said _quick_ and meant it, but he had somehow forgotten that Hashirama has the grip of a fucking god and enough disdain for humanity to torture him with it.

He makes a truly mortifying noise as his orgasm looms too quickly; Hashirama lets up and gentles to slow, languorous strokes. He shudders and tries to even his breathing, toes curled tightly against his feet. Hashirama makes no attempt to hide his grin, eyes crinkling with mirth.

"You are aware that those pants hide nothing, correct?" Madara bites out, Hashirama's eager cock straining the pathetic excuse for training pants in his peripheral vision. "And that you are definitely supposed to wear something under or over them?"

"I'm aware and thank you for offering," Hashirama says cheerily, unwinding their fingers to plop Madara's hand over his cock. 

He squeezes it without thought, lightheaded and almost giddy, and rolls his palm over heated flesh. Hashirama arches up against him and sighs, shuffling closer so they are more or less head to foot. Madara peels Hashirama's pants down far enough to free his cock, tucking his forehead against the curve of a well-defined calf.

Sun-warmed hair washes over his skin like water: his only warning before Hashirama takes him in his mouth.

Madara shivers bodily and reaches down instinctively to fist Hashirama's hair away from his face. "That'll take too long," he complains in a mutter, though it nearly pains him. "I said _quick_."

Hashirama throws his hair back so Madara can focus on his cock and ignores him, confident in his abilities—for the first few minutes. Long, enthusiastic minutes. Madara enjoys the act and his ever-increasing indignation in turn.

"Just use your hand. I'm not in the right mood for that."

Hashirama finally pulls back and glares up at him as he sulkily complies. Madara smiles back lazily and leans up on an elbow so their positions are reversed; Hashirama breathes in quickly in anticipation and groans low in his throat as saliva-slick lips mouth at his cock, fingers flexing around Madara. His strokes are markedly more enthusiastic than a mere second ago.

Losing every so often is healthy for him, Madara thinks smugly.

**8:30**

He is late, of course. Of course he is, after all that.

For a while things had looked bright – they had satisfied each other with enough time to warm up, run through several rounds of control exercises _and_ destroy the training grounds nearest the mountain – but it had fallen apart when they went to bathe, covered in grass and mud and dripping with sweat under the progressively brutal spring sun. It had been nothing short of a battle of its own trying to fend Hashirama off long enough to scrub down and rinse his hair, and then he had _still_ been pinned to the nearest surface and kissed within an inch of his life, Hashirama in one of his persistently amorous moods. He had managed to escape before his progressively weak will could crumble; as persuasive as Hashirama is, skipping breakfast would have ended poorly for both of them. Never do they hate each other more than when they are hungry.

His hair is mostly dry by the time he arrives at the Uchiha main house. Izuna throws open the front door before he can reach for the handle, dressed in his uniform and looking none-too-happy about something.

"Are you leaving already?" Madara asks unnecessarily. He had hoped to catch up a little.

"I have work to do, can't dawdle," he says briskly, holding the door open for him. "Be on time for dinner and tell Kuromaru to hurry the hell up!"

"Alright. See you."

"See you!"

Madara kicks off his sandals in the entrance and pads into the family room where the rest of his brothers are still eating.

"Good morning, big brother," Nagano says promptly. He leans across the wide table and uncovers the dish at Madara's place. "Izuna made you a plate in case someone ate everything before you could arrive."

 _Someone_ , also known as Uchiha Kuromaru, gives a big guilty grin around a mouthful of food. "Morning!"

"Morning." He sits with a little happy sigh at the prospect of food and picks up his chopsticks. "Good morning, big brother," he says politely.

Togakushi grunts, not looking at him as he leafs through a small stack of public notices that must have been dropped off that morning. Madara had approved them all and doesn't bother asking to look at them, digging into his food – cold by now but still tasty. Bless the old aunties who insist on bringing them breakfast.

Kuro finishes his breakfast in several enormous gulps and hurries off to get changed into his uniform, twenty-nine and not yet aware that one can dress before they eat. He returns promptly, flak vest flapping open and headband threatening to fly off his head.

"I want sushi for dinner!" he calls, hopping on one foot as he yanks his sandal on. Uniform righted, he opens the door and slams it after him with enough force to rattle the frame. _"See you later!"_

Togakushi's glare could easily rival their father's. Madara and Nagano keep their heads down and mouths full lest they also invite his wrath.

"There is an inter-clan dinner this weekend," he says at length, putting down the notices and picking up his chopsticks to finish the vegetables on his plate. "I expect you all to attend."

Nagano pulls a face, uncharacteristically bold as he whines, "Big brother..."

"I'm _sorry_ , do you have somewhere more important to be?" Togakushi says coldly.

Nagano ducks his head, mumbling apologies.

"If I have to suffer through it," Togakushi mutters darkly, "so do you all."

"Why don't you want to attend, Nagano?" Madara asks innocently.

Nagano glares up at him weakly from beneath his fringe and says nothing.

"Are the big bad Senjus bullying you again?"

"As if I would let a _Senju_ bully me," he mumbles without conviction.

"Oh? Perhaps a... hmm... Yamanaka?"

Nagano hunches down on his cushion, glaring at the rice in his bowl.

"You could try rejecting them," Madara offers wisely.

The glare fades into despair. "I _can't_ ,” he moans.

"Why not?"

"Because—because…"

"Just tell them to fuck off. It's easy. You can practice on me if you want, just this once," he adds graciously.

 _"I can't do that!"_ he says, horrified.

Madara jabs a chopstick at him incredulously. "You _don't_ want that girl to stop bothering you? Then what the hell's the problem?"

Togakushi sighs loudly and gets up from the table, never one to sit and chat about such mundane things.

"Wait—a mission came in yesterday that I thought would suit you. Escort, two days. Do you want it?"

He nods curtly and steps out onto the engawa to finish his tea.

"Well?" Madara prompts, turning back to his youngest brother. "Is it because the Yamanakas are so forward?"

Nagano gives him a surprised look. "How—how did you know?"

"I'm not blind." _Yet_ , his mind supplies unhelpfully. He dismisses the intrusive thought as soon as it registers. "Just explain that the Uchiha do things differently."

There, that seems sensible enough. He has gotten much better at this diplomacy thing over the last few years.

Of course Nagano has the conviction of an udon noodle, but the advice itself is still good.

"Do you have experience with that?" Nagano asks suspiciously. "The Senju seem quite open, I suppose."

Madara snorts loudly. "The _Senju?_ No. They're as uptight as they come."

"Oh. But Hashirama-sama—" he hesitates, looking down at his lap. "Well, Hashirama-sama is very... demonstrative."

 _Shameless_ is what he probably means, but that is not a Senju trait so much as Hashirama's unique and probably terminal brand of stupidity.

"Hashirama is an outlier in that regard. From what I understand of their marriage customs, they are _exceedingly_ long-winded from the negotiations to the ceremonies. Ceremonies _plural_."

"No-one said anything about marriage!" Nagano squeaks.

"The Yamanaka did. Or did Togakushi not mention that to you?"

Madara does not share many particularly warm memories with Togakushi, as children or adults, but crying with laughter over the flowery letter that Yamanaka Inoko had sent regarding a possible marriage between her daughter and Nagano is certainly at the top.

Nagano gathers all of the dishes in a flash and rushes off to the kitchen to hide. Madara snickers to himself and finishes his breakfast.

**10:00**

Madara is surprised to find Hashirama already present and working when he arrives at the Hokage Tower. He had not been quick despite being the last one at the table and Hashirama's family breakfasts can literally go on for hours. Of course his focus quickly deteriorates with someone to talk to.

"Rub my shoulders?" Hashirama asks hopefully. "They're stiff from you trying to snap my neck earlier."

Madara hurls an ink brush at him. "We've been working for an hour and you're already slacking off!"

"Maybe I would work harder if my shoulders didn't hurt," he says innocently.

Madara rolls his eyes heavenwards but rounds his desk and stands behind Hashirama's chair, digging his fingers into his shoulders. Hashirama immediately melts onto his desk with a loud groan, cheek smooshed against the wood.

"Now get back to work!"

Hashirama grumbles but props himself up and inks a brush, hair nearly falling across wet ink as his head bows in pleasure. "Don't stop! Keep going!"

The jōnins that had been talking outside the office have thankfully left when Madara checks for chakra signatures. He slaps Hashirama over the head anyway and digs his thumbs viciously into thick muscle. The big oaf just groans louder.

He is still massaging Hashirama's shoulders like an idiot when Togakushi comes to receive his mission as agreed. Madara steps away immediately, fixing Hashirama's hair and leaning against the desk.

"Come in."

Togakushi shuts the door after him, dressed in the standard jōnin garb. He bows his head politely. "Good morning, Hokage-sama. Little brother."

"No need to be so formal, Togakushi-san! You can call me little brother too!"

"That is quite alright, thank you," he says dourly. "I believe you have a mission for me?"

Madara reaches over Hashirama's depressed form and tosses him the waiting scroll. "A-rank. And take Nagano if he isn't busy," he adds.

Togakushi pulls an expression of delicate disgust. "Nagano—"

"Needs the experience. His mission record is pitiful."

A terrible understatement, but not one that needs to be elaborated on currently.

"Izuna should go on missions with him. He is patient and a better swordsman than I, anyway."

"Izuna is too soft on him," Madara says pointedly. "Nagano needs strict guidance. Learning directly under you will be beneficial to him even if you can't help him with his kenjutsu."

He should _already_ be training Nagano as clan head as well as his older brother but Madara cannot truly blame him for slacking; he would prefer to train Nagano himself, firmer than Izuna and more sensitive than Togakushi, but he is too busy to take on students. Even with two people their workload is frustrating – more so now with the upcoming Kage Summit. They are all preparing for the worst.

With that in mind, he thinks grimly, perhaps he should carve out the time to train Nagano anyway.

"Why must your brothers disrespect me so?" Hashirama mutters gloomily when they are alone again.

Madara does not dignify him with a response, returning to his desk and cleaning the crusted ink from his brush. They work in silence for several minutes before Hashirama loses interest again and takes a walk around the room, checking the plants he had already watered and staring longingly out the window.

 _"Hashirama,"_ he growls after the third despairing sigh. "We don't have time for this. If we finish the backlog today we only have meetings for the rest of the week. Would you rather be sitting here on Friday until nine o'clock or bore yourself today and have the weekend off?"

He sighs again and says, "Let's eat with my family today. Itama promised me a big lunch."

"Only if you finish your work."

It is a bold-faced lie, Madara always happy to eat Itama's cooking, but Hashirama returns to his chair without further negotiation. Madara eyes him from his own messy desk and is gratified when Hashirama hunkers down and resumes his work, only occasionally getting up to stretch. He comes over once or twice to bother him for a kiss, but Madara has worked alongside him long enough to take his victories where he can: if a little kiss gets Hashirama back on track, with the gods as his witness he will do it shamelessly.

* * *

**13:00**

Trying to finish his allotted tasks is made significantly more difficult when Madara keeps piling more on. Hashirama speeds through what he can, eventually making a clone to keep up. Madara shoots him a vicious glare, convinced if he allows Hashirama to use too many clones he will skip out one day entirely without him noticing (which is admittedly not an unfounded worry, Hashirama thinks wistfully). His clone groans and grumbles but takes half of his tasks and works single-mindedly through them.

His head is fuzzy with sheer boredom, eyes heavy and threatening to slip shut for good. The only thing that keeps him going is the fact that he only has one more report before they can escape for lunch. Why, _oh why,_ does it have to be the longest one so far? He has never cared _less_ about the Land of Wind.

Madara puts down his ink brush and leaves his desk for the first time in hours with a loud groan. He leans against the windowsill and cracks his back, standing there for a moment with his head hanging between his shoulders. Hashirama has to pinch his clone to keep him from getting distracted by the backside angled their way.

"I want to go back to war," Madara says at length, voice firm. " _Please_. I beg you. I will kill Tobirama if that helps."

"We can go to war later. Are you finished your work?"

Madara rounds on him, furious. _"Am **I** —_ _!_ _"_

Hashirama jumps up, finally reabsorbing his increasingly suicidal clone. "Then let's go to lunch!"

There are still three reports on his desk, one from his pile and two from the clone's, but he will definitely complete them later – before the post-lunch euphoria fades, he thinks optimistically.

*

The walk does them both a world of good, stretching tired muscles and clearing foggy minds. Hashirama had worked up quite the appetite despairing over his workload and is looking forward to a large, uninterrupted meal. He had barely been able to enjoy his breakfast with Tobirama and Mito glaring at each other across the table.

Itama is setting the table outside when they arrive. Madara takes a detour to relieve himself but Hashirama is too hungry to wait: he dives down in front of the table and begins loading his plate.

Mito comes in from the gardens, fanning herself rapidly. She lowers herself carefully to the floor and gives Hashirama a long, cold stare. Belatedly he realises he _probably_ should have offered to help – but she also probably would have hit him over the head with her fan for infantilising her.

"Hello, Mito-san," he says politely around a mouthful of fragrant rice. "How are you?"

"Quite possibly dying. And you?"

"Well, thank you."

"Hello, big brother," Itama says exasperatedly in greeting, setting down a steaming teapot and sitting across from him to take his own share before Madara's not insignificant appetite joins the table. "Slow down, please. At least let big sister pick before you take everything."

"Where are Tobirama and Kawarama?" is what Hashirama intends to ask, but it comes out more like 'waaaaa'ii'aaa'aaaa?' as he tries to eat as many strips of seared beef as he can before Madara gets a whiff of them.

"Tobirama's too busy to eat with us today. Hitomi-san is delivering his lunch. I don't know about Kawarama yet. You keep away from that dish!"

Hashirama rubs the chopstick welt on his hand and sulks into his food. Madara returns then, wandering through the garden with a peaceful expression. Hashirama slows, heart giving a queer little leap. He wipes oil from his mouth and pours Madara's tea for him, adding a small spoon of sugar from the bowl Itama had thoughtfully provided; no-one else in their family drinks tea with sugar.

"Good afternoon, big brother!"

Madara gives Itama a small, faintly pained smile. Hashirama hides his smirk behind his teacup.

"Afternoon, Itama-san. Senju-san."

Tobirama does not make an appearance, as warned, but Kawarama joins them later with his dogs in tow, still dirty from training. He and Madara immediately fall into conversation about the nin-dog team Madara will be evaluating at the police station in a few hours. They are still arguing when they have had their fill, leaving the table to walk the dogs deep into the Senju gardens.

"Mito-san," Hashirama says when they are alone, Itama reading beneath one of the flowering trees next to the engawa. "Would you like me to supplement your chakra?"

"It's not the chakra that is the problem," she grouses, leaning an elbow on the table as she finishes her tea. He pours her another and she murmurs her thanks. "But I'm fine. The weather is not agreeing with me today.” 

"I could speak with Tobirama?"

She waves a flippant hand. "Tobirama is not the problem either. He is doing his best. However poor that best is."

Hashirama gives her a disapproving look, though privately he agrees. Tobirama had seemed committed to the marriage and the pregnancy up until these last few months. Hashirama admittedly has no idea how he would react to impending fatherhood either, but he hopes it might be with a touch less existential dread. The twin revelation had not helped, though the possibility had been brought up fairly during the marriage negotiations.

Tobirama had gotten a chance to trump Madara at least, who had been the most shocked of anyone to hear the news. Twins are practically unheard of in the Uchiha, apparently.

"Is there anything I can do to help? I will be glad to listen if you want to talk."

"You just want to get out of your work," Mito says dryly, almost fond. "Has there been any news from the east? I would be happy to draft the letters for you. I am so incredibly _bored_ , Hashirama-san, and I am going to beat Tobirama to death with my manuscript if he tells me one more time to focus on my poetry instead of doing something useful."

He grimaces in sympathy. "We would be grateful for your help. I will have Tōka deliver the documents tomorrow."

She sighs, finally looking at ease. "Thank you."

**16:00**

Tobirama is teaching a class when Hashirama pokes his head around the door, free of his office for the day. The children – aged anywhere between ten and sixteen, a brief glance informs him – turn as one to gape at him.

He smiles and lifts a hand in greeting. Tobirama stares murderously at him from the blackboard, halfway through a lesson on the chakra pathway system.

"Good afternoon, children! Do you think I could join in?"

The older children make excited noises of agreement. Tobirama sets down his chalk with a snap, silently sets out ink and paper on the teacher's desk and _points_. Hashirama shuffles forward like a naughty child and takes them.

 _It seems I have made a grave miscalculation,_ he thinks sullenly as he takes a seat in the last row next to some gawping teenagers and begins mindlessly copying down the information from the blackboard.

*

"Your evaluation was scheduled for _tomorrow_ ," Tobirama reminds him snappily when they get to his office after class. He dumps scrolls and papers messily on his desk and throws open the window for some fresh air.

"I know. I finished my other tasks so I thought I would stop by."

Tobirama gives him a look of great disbelief. "And where is Madara? Did you leave him tied up in a closet somewhere to get out of the office?"

"No, he's off evaluating the new nin-dog team at the police station. He told me not to come after what happened last time."

Tobirama stares at him. Hashirama waits patiently, rubbing his hands together and flexing aching fingers. _Finally_ he asks, "What happened last time?"

"I'm glad you asked. It's a really funny story. It started with—"

"Actually, I don't care. What do you wa—oi! Stop looking so depressed! I'm busy!"

Hashirama straightens in his seat with a sniff. He points at his brother, eyes narrowed. "I'm here to beat some sense into you before Mito-san does. Violently."

Tobirama gives him an equally narrow look as he sits and begins ordering his scrolls. "You need to stop encouraging her. She needs to rest."

He sighs loudly.

"Tobirama, _little brother_ , do you trust my judgement as a healer? As a healer," he adds pointedly, "who has assisted in several difficult pregnancies and is quite familiar with the process?"

Tobirama glowers at him. "Yes," he spits finally.

"Mito-san is undoubtedly under stress, but she is not struggling and your attitude is doing more harm than anything. You forget that the Uzumaki are very resilient. She is also not _reckless_. When she is tired she rests and she calls on me or her midwife when she is worried. If she felt incapable, do you not think you would be the first to know as her husband?"

Evidently he does not. It is not surprising considering their parents' and relatives' marriages, but still saddening in a way.

"Mito-san is a very straightforward person. And she cares for you greatly," Hashirama adds, in case Tobirama is somehow unaware of this too. "If you actually listened to her you would understand that she is fine."

"She won't be for long," Tobirama says stubbornly. "She'll give birth soon. She's already beyond the point most other women give birth to twins."

"I acknowledge the statistics are incredibly worrying," he agrees gently, "but Mito-san is healthy and there is no indication that the babies are in distress. There's no need to assign unnecessary significance to the birth. Either it will go as planned or she will be taken to the hospital, where I and our best healers will be attending to her. You know that I will do everything in my power to—"

"I _know_."

Hashirama lets the words sit for a while, Tobirama brooding behind his desk. His lunch dishes are piled on the edge of his shelf, Hashirama notices with disapproval. He had not even finished eating.

"What else did she say?" Tobirama asks at last, grumbling. Embarrassed. 

"Just that she's frustrated with you and incredibly bored. You should go home early today and play shogi with her."

His brother pulls a face at him.

"What? Too romantic?" Hashirama asks innocently. "Whatever you do, don't try to bring up her poetry."

**22:00**

The sun has fully descended, hidden below the earth. Hashirama drifts through his garden pruning dead limbs and drizzling water over thirsty soil.

The night is cool rather than crisp, his skin still warm with the sun. Curious moths flutter around his face, one landing on his cheek. He lets it be and it flies away eventually, silk-soft wings tickling his skin.

The quiet of the garden after their noisy dinner is both peaceful and unsettling. The house he shares with Madara is inexplicably quiet, his ears used to the living sounds of several other people: breathing, muttering, footsteps, impromptu laughter. He does not mind the quiet, per se, but sometimes he misses living with his brothers.

Before the erection of the Hokage residence he had never spent any significant amount of time away from them. They had always been a wall away, Tobirama even closer as they shared a room until adolescence. Tobirama had insisted on his own room eventually, craving independence and his own space to lay out his messy experiments, but Itama would humour Hashirama some nights and drag his futon in to sleep next to him. Hashirama doesn't mind being alone, craves it sometimes when the season is changing and he feels too big for his skin, but there is something terribly lonely about sleeping by yourself in a house full of other people.

Then again, he does not know what he would do if they _did_ all live under the same roof. He cannot imagine not having the freedom to be intimate with Madara whenever they please and as often as they please. They would have to be _quiet_ ; a horrifying prospect.

As long as they are all well, there is no need to revisit co-habitation. He knows Madara feels the same, though he has confessed in the past to experiencing guilt at not being there to help as soon as an emergency arises. Togakushi may be the oldest and wisest, but Madara is by far the strongest of his brothers even without his advanced eyes.

The thought saps up his remaining good mood, as it often does. He hates Madara's eyes: the disturbing circumstances he refuses to disclose and the pain they cause him.

He knows Madara will tell him one day; most likely on his deathbed, Hashirama acknowledges, when he has run out of time. He only hopes that day is many years from now.

*

He sits in the centre of the grass, the gentle lapping of Madara's koi pond providing the focus of his meditation. The moon is bright tonight; almost full.

He lifts his head, sure he is being watched, just as Madara bowls him over.

Madara comes out on top after a brief, half-hearted struggle: he grins down at him, hair eclipsing his face and chest fluttering gently with exertion. Hashirama leans up helplessly to kiss him and sighs as his arms are pinned to the dewy grass, Madara writhing like an eel over him as he rucks up his robes enough to rut their hips together.

"Why are you so excited?" he gasps when Madara buries his face in his neck, kissing and sucking at his pulse, but it is mostly rhetorical. There are times when Madara's desire is incorrigible and tonight, he is ecstatic to note, is one of those times.

Madara is a more languid lover than he had ever anticipated. He is lazy, slow to heat but easy to rile up; it had been difficult in the beginning, trying to find a rhythm that suited them both, but where Madara is sometimes selfish in his pleasure, he is not toothless. He is impossibly warm—passionate. He takes everything Hashirama gives him and demands more, only to return it tenfold when Hashirama least expects it.

"There's no-one around," Madara whispers between sloppy kisses. "Do you want to try to make me come now with your mouth? I think you could."

He needs no other convincing: he flips Madara onto his back and kneels over him, grabbing the waistband of his standard-issue pants and yanking them off. The lack of anything underneath stumps him for a moment, even as his body flushes in heated anticipation.

"You complain when _I_ don't—"

Madara hooks his heel over Hashirama's shoulder and yanks him forward. "Someone," he breathes, _"was chasing me around the fucking house while I was trying to get dressed."_

Hashirama grins sheepishly, if not proudly. If the moon drives Madara wild, the sun sets him alight. Some mornings are harder than others.

Madara presses a biting kiss to his mouth and pushes his head down. Hashirama might have complained about the rough treatment—actually, he thinks idly, probably not. He pushes Madara's robes up to his ribs and lies between splayed legs, kissing up a pale thigh. He lingers there for a moment, closing his teeth around deceptively soft flesh; an impatient hand fists his hair and yanks him up and Hashirama moves with it, rubbing his mouth and cheek against Madara's cock.

He hisses out a sharp breath and leans back on his elbows to watch, knees on either side of Hashirama's ribs. He watches him with bright eyes, upturned face and unruly hair washed silver by the moon.

Hashirama's hands are dirty from working in the garden; a part of him finds it ironic, a reverse of that morning, but he had not been truly offended by Madara's terms. He gets ahead of himself, is all.

Ahead of himself, he thinks humorously. He opens his mouth to share the joke and thinks better of it when Madara makes an impatient noise, grinding against his cheek and leaving it sticky. He wets his tongue and takes the slick head in his mouth, desire swelling as Madara hisses excitedly. He shuts his eyes, enjoying the weight on his tongue.

Madara will appreciate his joke more when he is too relaxed to pretend not to find him funny, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Tobirama/Mito was just meant to be a completely background thing and then I got incredibly invested in their story, whoops.
> 
> Also idk if anyone will care about this but I just wanted to point out that when Hashirama calls Madara 'lazy' etc. this is not implying that Madara is uninterested or unwilling. Two things specific to this story: 
> 
> 1) Hashirama is generally just Really Horny. Madara has an "average" sex drive that gets supernatural top-ups from the moon every so often, I guess (lmao). 
> 
> 2) From the beginning Hashirama was always the more physical partner and Madara became used to never being the initiator. Thus he is 'lazy'. Due to this kind of false sense of security, it becomes a power exchange for him. Madara is used to being accountable but because Hashirama is always the initiator, he is allowed to fall into a more complacent role where the most important decision he has to make is yes or no. (Hashirama does not have a problem with this in general since the sex and emotional connection are both top notch, but they do eventually resolve this and live their best lives.)


End file.
